


Sweetie

by Toomanyfandoms99



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, Drama, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Ruth is River, Sontaran - Freeform, Speculation, TARDIS - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 09:08:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22847686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: She takes another step.  “Even if you are from another reality, we shouldn’t be able to talk like this.”“We have before,” Ruth shrugs, “haven’t we?  We must have.”“That was different,” the Doctor counters, “you aren’t me.  I know you aren’t me.  So who are you?”“The woman who saved your life,” Ruth offers.The Doctor looks away, glancing down at the gun again.  It seems familiar.  She has seen this gun before, but from where?
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/River Song, The Doctor/River Song, Thirteenth Doctor/River Song
Comments: 8
Kudos: 153





	Sweetie

“Run!”

The Doctor guides her companions through the innards of a Sontaran spaceship, the sound of pews coming from nearby. She makes it to the TARDIS and throws herself onto the phone box doors. She collapses on the floor of her time machine as Yaz steps over her gangly legs.

“C’mon, Doc,” she says, “get us outta here!”

“Yeah,” Ryan offers a hand, which the Doctor scrambles to grasp, “we need someone to drive this thing.”

The Doctor takes the hand, Yaz and Ryan helping her to her feet. The TARDIS rocks, but she braces before she can tip and fall again.

A bright red bouncy ball from the TARDIS ball pit rolls against her shoe. Her hand swipes it up while her other grips the edge of the metal console.

She makes it to the controls as Ryan yells, “Graham, come on!”

The old man halts at the threshold, and the Sontarons that were gaining on them outside fall into sudden silence.

The only sound is heavy breathing and the hum of the activated TARDIS engine.

“Doc,” Graham breathes, “you need to come see this.”

The Doctor halts in pulling the lever, hand gripping the metal and releasing at the urgency in Graham’s voice. Yaz and Ryan stare at Graham as well, brows furrowing.

The Doctor leaves the TARDIS console and steps towards the man. He is standing on the threshold of the police box, wide blue eyes pointing a thumb behind his shoulder.

“What?” She asks. “What is it?”

Graham side steps, back onto the spaceship floor of a Sontaron ship. The silence behind him is acute, and the Doctor edges past Graham in a trance.

The Doctor hears hesitant footsteps as her three companions follow her out into the spaceship hallway, echoing and creaking with empty hollow metal. There are no shouts, no pews, and no sounds of approaching footsteps.

There is, however, a woman standing a few paces away, waiting for her.

“Ruth,” The Doctor exhales, “how did you get here?”

The woman’s tinted glasses give her eyes a glint as she smiles. She moves with a confident countenance, clad in a penguin suit. There is a shining metal gun resting on her hip, and the Doctor thinks instantly: there is no universe where this woman is the Doctor, a future version of herself.

“It seems our paths align again,” Ruth says smoothly and amusedly, “Doctor.”

The Doctor advances, her every footstep causing the metal underneath her shoes to make a clanging noise.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” the Doctor says to herself. “There still can’t be two of me in the same universe.” She stares pointedly at the gun, halting when they are two feet away. “And you’re definitely not me if you shot all the Sontarans.”

Ruth rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what to tell you, sweetie,” Ruth drawls, “I’m the Doctor from another reality, and I just saved you.”

The Doctor studies her, eyes squinting. Her voice is edged with venom. “I don’t like being called a sweetie.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Ruth smirks on one side of her mouth. “Does it bring bad memories with it?”

The Doctor grits her teeth, refusing to think where her mind is forcing her to wander. It does no good, remembering the past.

She takes another step. “Even if you are from another reality, we shouldn’t be able to talk like this.”

“We have before,” Ruth shrugs, “haven’t we? We must have.”

“That was different,” the Doctor counters, “you aren’t me. I know you aren’t me. So who are you?”

“The woman who saved your life,” Ruth offers.

The Doctor looks away, glancing down at the gun again. It seems familiar. She has seen this gun before, but from where?

“Where’d you get that?” The Doctor nudges her head towards the gun, gaze flickering back up to Ruth’s face.

There is something about those eyes, too. Something about that glint that she has seen before…

Ruth straightens, bristling at the question. “It was on my TARDIS. Why? Don’t you have one?”

“You know that I don’t,” the Doctor says harshly, “you were the one who got us off that ship, remember?”

Ruth blinks, a flash of unfamiliarity there. After a second, she remembers.

“Ah,” Ruth says coolly, “yes.”

The Doctor cocks her head to the side, eyes squinting further. “You’re not me,” she concludes, “I don’t forget so easily.”

“Only after you regenerate,” Ruth says, “but you still forget.”

The Doctor purses her lips. “I never forget faces.”

“But you forget names,” Ruth says, “and you choose not to remember them.”

The Doctor takes a step back. Something about her is absolutely frustrating, but absolutely magnetizing at the same time.

She has only ever felt that presence with one person… 

“You were a tour guide before,” the Doctor says numbly, “right?”

She is a man again, if only for a moment, a nerdy professor type with messy brown hair and thick-framed glasses and giant brown eyes. She is confronted with a woman in a space suit guiding a team into the Library.

She was captivated, then, too.

“Yes,” Ruth replies, “why do you ask?”

The Doctor looks through Ruth’s tinted glasses, perched on her nose, and sees a pair of dewdrop-shaped jeweled sunglasses on a different head.

She inhales sharply through her nose, the exhale coming out slow and shaky.

“And in your tours,” the Doctor asks, “did you know facts about the architecture?”

She is a man, but a different man. One that wore tweed and bowties. One that stood observing the side of a cliff as the words ‘hello sweetie’ emblazoned on the rock signal the presence of a woman disguised as Cleopatra.

Ruth narrows her eyes. “Where is this going, Doctor?”

“Answer the question,” she says sharply.

Ruth blinks at her tone. “Yes,” she says smoothly, “I suppose I knew facts about the architecture.”

“Did you know facts,” the Doctor asks, “about the discoveries made?”

“Discoveries,” Ruth says blankly, “what do you mean by discoveries?”

The man with the tweed and bow tie catches the curly blonde woman as she falls. She scrambles on top of him, causing him to blush and stammer.

The Doctor is entranced as she replies, “discoveries like...say...artifacts? Something that an...archeologist would find?”

It is a gamble, mentioning archaeology, but Ruth backpedals as the term is spoken. The spell, sucking up all the oxygen between them, is broken, but not severed entirely.

The Doctor sees her, then, sees a curly-haired woman in her head, smirking in the exact same way with the exact same lipstick.

Ruth’s lipstick...it’s a red-purple shade.

It’s hallucinogenic lipstick. 

The Doctor suddenly feels dizzy, and the bouncy ball that she has been squeezing in her hand this entire time without realizing it slips from her fingers, clunking to the metal floor and rolling to some unknown destination on the Sontaran spaceship.

Ruth stares back at her like the previous question is a trigger.

“Archeology…” Ruth says slowly. “Why does that sound familiar?”

The Doctor swallows thickly, eyes misting over as she takes a bold bound forward.

“You’re not me,” she says gently, “but you’re a hybrid. Partly my kind, a Time Lord, and partly human.” The Doctor blinks away moisture as another face floats, superimposed above Ruth’s own in her mind. “You used the chameleon arch to scatter your memories. I’ve used it as well, but that doesn’t make you me. And having a TARDIS doesn’t make you me either.”

“What are you saying?” Ruth asks, jaw clenching defensively. “I have to be you. There are no other Time Lords in the universe!”

The Doctor is on a roll. Her thoughts align as she speaks them into existence.

“The chameleon arch has flaws,” she continues. “There is always a trigger that brings the user’s memories back like a floodgate.” The Doctor pauses, getting into Ruth’s personal space without seeming intimidating. “There is something you have that will tell you who you really are. Something from the past.” The Doctor glances pointedly at the lipstick, the tinted glasses, and the gun. “Or multiple things.”

Ruth, who is taller, tilts her head down at the Doctor. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says coldly.

The Doctor smiles. “You do. Kinda. Sorta.” She gasps abruptly. “You just haven’t found the right item yet!”

“I think I’ve had quite enough,” Ruth says weakly, “I shouldn’t have saved you.”

“Aw,” the Doctor wrinkles her nose amusedly, “that’s your body and mind’s way of fighting back.” She smooths out the tension in her shoulders. “I can help. I am a Doctor, after all.”

Ruth snorts. “Who exactly do you think I am, Doctor?”

The sudden thrill and promise of a treasure hunt is gone. The Doctor is sober again at the image of her, the real Ruth.

The Doctor inhales sharply to prevent her eyes from welling up again. She ducks her head down, then back up to Ruth’s face.

“Someone very, very important,” the Doctor replies.

Her seriousness, then, is smoothed over with the appearance of a smile and cheerful tone.

“Now!” The Doctor claps her hands together. “Take me to your TARDIS. I’m sure what we’re looking for is there!”

Ruth observes her warily. “Will it get you to shut up?”

The Doctor smiles as a smoky voice says to the old her, ‘I hate you.’

‘No, you don’t,’ her old self would reply cheekily.

The Doctor chimes, “yes.”

“Fine,” Ruth rolls her eyes, “follow me.”

The Doctor beams as she flounces after Ruth, barely hearing her companions’ incessant questions in the distant background.

“Doc,” Graham says to her back, “what’s going on?”

“Shouldn’t we be leaving?” Ryan asks.

“Is she in a trance?” Yaz asks the two men.

The Doctor cannot bring herself to turn around and explain what is happening. She is too absorbed in seeing if her hypothesis is correct.

And if she’s right, where does she go from here?

Ruth’s TARDIS is pristine as the Doctor enters it. She scans the area as Ruth stands by the console, nails tapping against the control board.

Nails…

The Doctor glances at Ruth’s nails. They are painted bright red.

Those bright red nails would often curve around the gun on Ruth’s hip, bedazzled sunglasses highlighting a bold red smirk.

The Doctor turns away sharply, purposefully not meeting the eyes of her companions. Yaz, Ryan, and Graham linger in the entrance of the unfamiliar TARDIS, speaking in low voices to each other.

She finds she is too dazed to do more than search for the item she seeks.

She makes a circular motion about the TARDIS, studying the walls as if expecting hidden treasures to burst from hexagonal panels. She moves to the console next, making a slow turn about the controls. 

When she reaches the camera screen, she catches a glint of metal dangling from below it.

Her hand cups the object, bringing her face closer to the chain. She skirts her fingers around the chain until she finds the charm at the end. 

The letter R in elegant silver is at the base of the necklace, and the Doctor’s breath hitches.

She falls to her knees, mouth agape and eyes blurry with tears. She inhales through her nose laboriously and struggles to breathe out an exhale.

“Doctor?” Yaz says, registering as somewhere off to the side. “You alright?”

The Doctor bats her lashes, and a tear falls down her cheek. Her hand covers her mouth, and she shakes her head.

Her fingers swipe at the tear, then she removes the hand from her mouth. She sniffles, hearing Ryan’s, “what’s wrong?”

It hits the Doctor all at once how much this changes everything. Her hand clutches at the necklace, the letter R branding in her palm. She blinks the moisture from her eyes and stands slowly. She unclasps the necklace from behind the screen and holds both ends in her hands.

The Doctor gave this necklace to the real Ruth after they made love for the first time. It was after she became an archeologist and graduated university.

When the Doctor was a man, he clasped this necklace around her neck and promised he would always love her. She did not believe him back then, but living a love in reverse does not make the statement any less true, no matter how much older he was than her.

The Doctor’s sniffles again, and she is hopeful as she turns around to meet Ruth’s eyes.

It is usually the Doctor that would catch the real Ruth by surprise, but the Doctor can’t be too disappointed.

The Doctor advances, the necklace dangling near her rainbow tee. “Look at this,” she breathes, “you have to remember this, Ruth.”

Ruth’s gaze does not glaze over at the R as the Doctor expects. She merely says, “my husband gave me that.”

The Doctor wants to sob, but her lips wobble instead. “When?”

“After I graduated university,” Ruth says carefully, “he was so happy for me.”

Oh, the Doctor can’t take this. She can’t take it, so tears flow freely down her face. She does not stop them.

Her voice wavers. “Yes,” she says, “I was.”

She gulps to prevent from making an ugly sobbing noise, standing and shaking as the necklace dangles from her pinched fingers.

“This isn’t funny,” Ruth says harshly, “my husband’s dead. He gave his life for me!”

“Yeah,” the Doctor whispers, “sounds like something I would do.” She sniffles. “You’ve done the same for me, you know.”

“What,” Ruth hisses, “are you talking about?”

“Your name isn’t Ruth,” the Doctor says thickly, “it’s River.”

The name, finally spoken aloud for the first time in centuries, has Ruth stiffen and freeze. Beneath her tinted glasses, her eyes glaze over.

Ruth falls to her knees, staring up at the Doctor, everything clicking into place for her.

Ruth stares at the R necklace, and the Doctor feels her remember. The Doctor feels it deep in her bone marrow, from the tips of her toes to the top of her blonde head.

River Song remembers.

And as her eyes fill with water, she doubles over and coughs up gold glittering energy.

The Doctor crouches in an instant, holding onto River’s shoulder as she coughs. Sputters of leftover regeneration energy dissipate into the air.

The coughing stops abruptly, though. The Doctor finds herself transferring the necklace into one hand, slipping it away from River’s shoulder, and grasping the sonic screwdriver in her pocket. The Doctor flicks on the sonic, an orange light scanning the woman across from her. She flicks back the screen to study the readings.

She gasps. “Your appearance is a perception filter. Hang on.”

The Doctor plays with the sonic screwdriver, scanning with every setting. After a moment of frantic switch-flipping, something trips up the filter.

The perception filter falls away from River like a garment, and the Doctor gasps as her true form is revealed.

Her curly blonde hair springs from her face, her green eyes hazy but as dazzling as ever. The suit she wears does not fit right, but enhances her curves all the same.

Her red lips smirk as her green eyes rove over the Doctor in familiarity.

“Well,” River says haughtily, gathering the excess fabric at her hips, “that’s the last time I trust a chameleon arch.”

Her hand leaves her hip as red-painted fingernails stretch towards the Doctor. 

River’s eyes glint as she says, “come here.”

The Doctor grasps the hand slowly, burning as their skin made contact with each other.

Only River could do this to her…

She registers a blush tingeing her own dappled cheeks as she stares at River. She rises from her feet in a single swoop of her dual heartbeats.

River’s fingers stay fully clasped in the Doctor’s hand, and the Doctor laughs a two-toned awkward harmony.

“So,” River teases, “you’re a woman now, huh?”

The Doctor smiles sheepishly. “Yep. Is it weird?”

River shakes her head and smiles. “I’ll get used to it.”

The Doctor realizes she is grasping the necklace hard in one hand. “Oh!” She holds up her palm, revealing that the R made an imprint on her life lines. “This is yours.”

River rolls her eyes amusedly. “Shy as ever, Doctor.” She turns on her heel with no warning. “Go ahead.”

The Doctor gulps, but casts each end of the necklace around River’s neck from behind. She secures the clasp after a few seconds of flushed fumbling.

She steps back, allowing River to turn back. The R necklace rests neatly over her collarbone and layers of clothing.

“Now,” River’s eyes dance, “who are these new friends of yours?”

The Doctor comes back to herself. She realizes that has some serious explaining to do.

She stammers over at her companions, “this is...this is my wife, River. I know that that’s kinda weird to spring on you, but,” she shrugs, “yeah, this is my wife.”

Yaz beams. “Cool! Space wives!”

“Are you a time traveler too?” Ryan asks eagerly.

“And can we travel on your ship instead?” Graham glances around. “I like this ship much better.”

“Wow, Graham,” the Doctor smiles, “rude, but I appreciate your honesty. River,” she motions to each companion, “these are my friends, Yaz, Ryan, and Graham.”

“This looks like an energetic group,” River says amusedly. “And yes, you can travel on my ship instead.”

The companions argue about who should go on what TARDIS at what time, so the Doctor drowns them out.

She looks at River, who looks back at her.

River winks. “Hello, sweetie.”

The Doctor flushes. “Hello, sweetie.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
